Sway Your Head
by fangirlgonewild
Summary: Post-3-09 "Santa in the Slush." Brennan recieves a mysterious package at the lab.
1. A Delivery

Booth sighed, pushing away from his desk and standing to stretch his legs. It had been three days since he'd caught a case and catching up on his paper work was slowly killing him. His usually orderly desktop was littered with files, at any moment a stack could tip, leaving him to drown in sheets of paper.

He stole a glance at the clock, wondering, as he always did, what she was doing. Right now, it was easy; she was most assuredly still at the lab, happily leaning over some ancient femur from limbo. If he left now, he could bring one of these files, telling her he needed her signature and then artfully stealing her away for dinner.

By the time he reached the Jeffersonian, his spirits had risen. Booth tossed his keys in the air, humming softly to himself as he approached the platform, which was surprisingly devoid of activity. Undeterred, he looked to her office; perhaps she'd moved from reality to fiction and was pounding out her next novel.

His face fell slightly when he saw her windows – dark. The entire lab seemed silent, deserted.

Booth stood still, disappointment washing over him in waves. He _missed_ her when he didn't see her every day. Even during her most painfully annoying tirades, he still enjoyed being around her. Being with her.

Booth shook his head slightly, hoping to rid himself of his own melodramatic tendencies. _Bones left work early, so what? She's actually acting slightly human_, he realized with a smile.

Resigned to leftovers and a movie in his lonely apartment, Booth turned to go, dragging his feet as he moved toward the doors.

"Agent Booth!" A familiar voice called from behind him. Cringing slightly, Booth turned.

"Zack?"

Zack stood in the doorway of Angela's office, which Booth noticed was fully lit. He didn't see anyone except Zack, but he could hear Angela.

"Wait, Booth is here? Booth!"

"Hey, Angela." As Booth followed Zack into Angela's office, he found the squints, minus Brennan, gathered around Angela's desk.

"What's going on?"

Angela looked up, studying him a moment. "Actually, we were hoping you could clue us in."

"About…"

She gestured to the table, nudging Hodgins aside so Booth could see an open cardboard box sitting next to a pile of packing peanuts.

"Someone got a package?" Booth questioned, unsure if this was a joke he wasn't quite grasping.

Zack piped up, "Doctor Brennan received a package today at the lab. This package. I signed for it, but she wasn't in her office, so I opened it myself."

Booth interrupted, indignant. "You opened Bones' mail? That—"

"Is normal procedure, Booth." Cam informed him, "Institutions and individuals frequently send remains, artifacts, and information here. As part of the team, Zack could categorize, label, or examine the contents of the box without bothering Doctor Brennan."

"Trust me," Angela said, rolling her eyes, "if we let her deal with it all herself, you'd never be able to pull her away from her office."

"Yes," Zack continued, "so I opened the package myself. The contents however, seemed slightly more personal."

"By 'contents' he means this." Angela said, holding up a small, velvet box.

"Someone sent her jewelry?" Booth's face twisted slightly, "That's unusual, right?"

"Well, it would be downright creepy," Cam concurred, "but, we think it's from someone she knows."

Booth stood still for a beat, feeling foolish for not catching on.

"It's not me," he said, finally.

"We didn't think it was, dude." Hodgins responded, holding up a sealed envelope, "We think it's from Sully."

Booth felt his chest seize, his heart tightening as he took the envelope, reading 'Temperance' in Sully's clean script.

"It's his handwriting," he confirmed quietly.

"Do you think he's coming back?" Angela wondered softly.

No one answered her, but everyone around the table exchanged glances as Booth continued to stare at her name. It was Cam who finally moved, taking the envelope from his hands and setting it atop the black box.

"Well, I guess we'll just leave it on her desk for Dr. Brennan to collect in the morning."

"I can take it to her tonight," Angela volunteered, "If it's personal, she might rather open it, you know, in private."

"I'll take it to her," Booth said, scooping up the box and letter, "I have some papers for her to sign in my car, so I'm headed to her place anyway."

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It was masochistic of him, to want to be there when she opened the enticing little case. Her azure eyes would light up at the sight of whatever bauble, trinket, he couldn't bear to call it a _gift_, Sully had bought her. Worst of all, it was probably jewelry. And she'd probably wear it, to remind her of _him_ until he came home, came for her. The letter would probably tell her when to expect him. Booth simultaneously wanted to know all and didn't want to hear a thing about it. To know how many days he had left--he knew he'd constantly be counting down, wondering how many more nights he could bring her Thai, how many more times she'd call him an 'alpha male,' how many more…

Too soon he found himself standing at her front door. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked. And knocked again.

"Bones? Bones, come on!"

No answer. Was God looking to torture him? There was no way he could spend the night in his apartment with this thing. The temptation to open it tugged at his mind, whispering all the possibilities that could lie nestled within the box, all the endearments that Sully could have penned to close his letter.

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He thought back over his own gifts, his painstaking selected offerings to her, to his Bones. What had he ever gotten her that was worth anything? Fucking toys, a plastic pig and a Smurf figurine. A tree, a dying evergreen she had seen for a single night. Nothing special, nothing she could show off, though he knew she kept Jasper and Brainy Smurf on a shelf in her office. She could have a good laugh about them with her colleagues, 'Oh yes, my partner got those for me, isn't that so adorably naïve?'

He was selling her short, he knew Bones wasn't cruel, but as he slammed the driver's side door and stomped up the steps leading to his apartment he felt irrationally furious with her. She'd never said anything about being in contact with Sully, never hinted that she was waiting for him to return. Sure, she hadn't dated anyone, but Booth had hoped, wildly hoped that maybe…

He fumbled with his keys, dropping them twice before jamming the wrong one into the lock.

"Dammit, stupid, fucking key," he cursed loudly, holding the key ring up to the light as his door swung open from inside.

Brennan stood in his doorway, looking bemused.

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	2. Brennan's Style

"Booth, I really don't think it is effective to yell at inanimate objects."

He stared at her, leaning against his doorframe as if she belonged there.

"Furthermore, if you'd tried the knob, you would have noticed that I left it unlocked, rendering your keys completely useless."

"What are you doing here, Bones?" He finally managed, following her as she wandered back into his apartment.

Brennan hesitated, picking at the tile of his kitchen countertop and not meeting his eyes.

"Bones?" He repeated.

She glanced at him, and he felt the familiar jolt in his stomach when their eyes met and held.

"I was," she paused, searching for the right word, "_restless_. I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I left work and went by your office. You weren't there, and the receptionist said you'd just left, so I picked up some food and came here. The location of your hidden key is painfully obvious, so I let myself in."

She turned away from him, opening his fridge and pulling out several takeout boxes. As she stacked them neatly on the counter, she continued.

"You took an exceptionally long time to get here. I've already eaten one of the spring rolls, but other than that, I waited for you to start."

He licked his lips, watching her microwave the food, "You waited for me?"

"Well, yes. The point of coming over to your apartment was to see you, Booth"

Of the thousands of hopeful half-wishes tumbling through his head, her spoken words were sweeter. _She had missed him._

She pushed past him, carrying the containers to the table. He could smell her perfume, even over the mouthwatering scent of their Thai food. As Booth shrugged out of his jacket, the small box fell from his pocket. The memory of his own day came rushing back to him, and as he bent to pick up Sully's gift, he called out to her.

"Bones!"

"Mmm?" He looked over at her, her mouth already full of noodles.

"The reason I was late is, well, I went by the lab—"

She snorted softly, "And we missed each other on the way, that's coincidental."

"Yeah, well, you got a package. A personal package that Zack opened on accident, and I went to bring it by your place, but you weren't there." He waited a moment before adding, "It's from Sully."

To his shock, she didn't reach for it right away. She merely raised her eyebrows before taking a sip of her water.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, Bones, it's your box."

"You said that Zack opened it."

"The package, not the box—here, just take it," he set the envelope and box in front of her plate as he sat down next to her at the table.

He watched, unable to put food on his plate as she slit the envelope open and read the card inside, feeling sick as she smiled slightly, laying the card aside and picking up the box. She opened the velvet lid carefully, cocking her head as she peered at the contents.

Closing the lid, she set the box aside and turned back to her food.

"Aren't you hungry?" She asked, gesturing to his empty plate.

"Yeah, actually," Booth lied, picking up a container of rice and dumping some into a bowl.

"So, when is Sully coming back?" He inquired, feigning nonchalance.

"I don't know," she said, "he didn't say that he was, so I don't believe it will be soon."

"I thought that, you know, maybe he was writing to say—"

"He wasn't."

Her statement was so matter-of-fact he looked over at her, searching her face for some hint of her feelings. Usually he was so good at reading her.

"And you're okay with that?"

"Sully is a capable individual, Booth, I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is."

"And you?"

She put her fork down, irritated.

"Yes, Booth, I am fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, maybe you were waiting for him to come back, and now he's not for a while—"

"Booth, he simply sent me a belated Christmas gift. Why he mailed it to the lab, I can't imagine, but he just sent me a necklace and a late holiday greeting."

They sat in silence for a long moment.

"Is it nice, the necklace?" He said, taking a bite of his dinner.

"I suppose. It's not really my, what does Angela call it, style?"

"Oh."

Later, after Brennan had left, and Booth was washing their dishes, he noticed the box, sitting where she'd left it on the table. Curiosity overtook him, he simply couldn't help but take a peek, if only to learn what she considered 'not her style.'

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When he arrived at the lab the following afternoon, he found Brennan bent double over a fragmented skull. Mesmerized, he watched the rhythmic, cautious movement of her hands as she pieced the jawbone together, stopping only when she ran out of glue. Catching sight of him, she smiled, wiping her chin on her sleeve.

"Booth, I didn't see you come in. Do we have a case?"

"No, I just have some paperwork for you to sign. Who's this?" He asked, nodding at the skull.

"I don't know, actually." She frowned down at the skull, "The notes indicate he was found at a burial site in southern Georgia, most likely making him a Cherokee warrior of some kind. His remains were crushed at some point postmortem, so Zack and I have been piecing him together over the last few days. His bones show evidence of malnutrition—why are you looking at me like that?"

"You could have stopped at—you know, never mind," He said, handing her the file and a pen, as well as the jewelry box, "You left that in my apartment."

As she set the box aside, he could have sworn she made a face.

"I, uh, looked at it. The necklace. Hope you don't mind."

"I don't really care, no."

"You don't like it." It wasn't a question, and she didn't bother to acknowledge the statement, instead finding another bottle of glue and beginning her work again, this time on back of the skull.

Genuinely interested, Booth asked, "Why? It's a dolphin medal, you love dolphins, they remind you of your mom. Dolphins are _exactly_ your style."

At first he thought he'd gone too far, for she didn't say anything, she just kept working on the skull before her. Then, she began to speak.

"It's not that I don't like it, exactly. It's that Sully had no knowledge of the fact that I like dolphins or that dolphins remind me of my mother. He simply selected a piece of jewelry he thought I would like, and, by chance, he happened on an image that has sentimental value. If he were here, I could say, 'Oh, it's beautiful,' and tell him about my mother, but he's not here. Besides, I already have some dolphin jewelry of my mother's, including a necklace."

"You know, you could write to him and tell him about the dolphins—and your mother."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want to, though. I don't talk about _stuff_ with Sully anymore. I didn't really talk to him about it much when he was here. I barely talk about this kind of thing with Angela. Why are you pushing this, Booth? You know I hate psychology, and you are starting to read into all of this as if it's some kind of emotional issue."

"We talk about this _stuff_ all the time."

"Yes, but that's me and you. Brennan and Booth, this is what we do, talk to one another. Communicate. You're the one that said I should give up something in return for information from you."

"It's not a transaction, Bones."

Frustrated, she set the glue bottle down and pursed her lips.

"That's not what I meant. I tell you things, information I don't typically share, because we have a unique relationship. Additionally, you are an excellent listener. And you already know about my family, because you've read my file and you've met my father."

"A unique relationship?"

"Yes, unique. Special. If you gave me that necklace, for example, it would have special meaning, because you, as the giver, were more aware of the gift's meaning to me, the recipient."

"Okay, then," he said, ridiculously pleased she considered him—them—special, "Can you sign this paperwork now?"

Brennan shot a furtive glance at the clock, then picked up her glue and squinted down at the fragments before her.

"Bones, your signature, please?"

"No, I think I'll work on this for a bit longer. You really shouldn't interrupt me when I'm working, it's rude. These limbo cases are equally as important as the ones you bring me."

"Bones, I didn't say that, and I can't leave until you sign this."

"I believe I will work on this for another hour. At which point, I will sign your papers. By then, the traffic will really make returning to your office a waste of time, don't you think?"

"Probably, yes."

"So, then we could order some food, and you could explain the appeal of that awful film you recommended to me."

"Which one? Wait, do you mean _Kill Bill_? Bones, come on, did you even watch it all the way through?"

"Yes, both parts, and I thought it had far more blood than is realistic. That five-point technique she uses also makes no logical sense. And why didn't she tell him she had learned it? Surely such a skill would have been useful in her career as an assassin."

"Well, maybe their relationship wasn't as _special_ as ours."

She shot him a brief glare before stripping off her gloves.

"I'll sign your paperwork now, Booth, and you can go on back to work."

"Come on, Bones, it was sarcasm!"

He snatched the papers away from her, striding out of the room. She followed, chasing him through the lab and laughing in delighted exasperation as he held the stack above his head, out of her reach.

The velvet box sat on the countertop, completely forgotten.


End file.
